


While the Winter is Cold and Fierce

by elithewho



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/M, Hand Jobs, Incest, Multi, Sibling Incest, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-04
Updated: 2011-07-04
Packaged: 2017-10-21 01:13:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/219258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elithewho/pseuds/elithewho
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Robb makes it back north and legitimizes Jon and recovers Sansa, but not Arya, from the Lannisters. They're all older and wiser and more broken and turn to each other for comfort.</p>
            </blockquote>





	While the Winter is Cold and Fierce

**Author's Note:**

> written for the asoiaf kink meme.

The night, like all other nights, was cold. Every room but the master bedroom was icy and dank, the hallways drafty and barren. There were very few servants left at Winterfell, most had headed south in the last months of autumn. Only the ragged remnants of Robb’s bannermen and a few smallfolk remained.

Sansa’s brothers had insisted she sleep in her parents’ bedchamber. Sansa was still getting used to thinking of Jon as her true brother now, for he was, if not in blood then in the name Robb had given him. He was Jon Stark now, Robb’s true heir. Sansa looked back in shame at the way she had treated him when they had been children. Like a servant. He had only been a bastard, that was her reasoning. Sansa had thought many foolish things when she was a child.

There was a knock at the door. Robb entered, carrying a flagon of wine, some of the last they had.

“How are you settling in?” he asked, concerned but still a little awkward. Sansa felt strange too. She had been a child the last time she saw him, their family still intact. It felt like centuries had passed since then.

“Fine,” Sansa replied, accepting the wine which had been warmed over a fire. “It feels odd sleeping here.”

“I suppose it must.” He looked grim. He had watched their lady mother die, just as Sansa had watched their father’s head get cut off. A lump rose in her throat and she turned away quickly to place the wine beside the fire.

“Are your rooms comfortable?” she asked amiably, hoping to banish the dark thoughts that had manifested between them.

“Yes indeed,” she heard him lie. Sansa turned to him, realizing that she was not among the vicious lions any longer. Robb had rescued her and she was safe, safe to express her true thoughts and feelings, safe to grieve and cry and everything else. It had been so long, Sansa did not know if she remembered how.

She approached him gently, reaching out to touch his arm.

“Perhaps you would be more content sleeping here,” she said earnestly. “I don’t believe for a moment that those cold rooms would be any comfort.”

“No, you have only just returned from that awful place, I will not see you denied the best comfort.”

“We can both sleep here,” she insisted. “The bed is big enough.” She offered him her sweetest smile. It felt a little like a trick, something she might have done in King’s Landing, but she found the idea of sharing a bed with Robb very appealing. She still had nightmares from time to time, and his presence would be a great comfort, a reminder that she was finally safe.

Robb appeared to consider the offer, for surely the thought of his cold, drafty room was not tempting. Before he could speak to it one way or another, there was tap on the door. It was Jon, and when he entered he paused for a moment before speaking, as though he saw something he hadn’t expected. Perhaps it was the way Sansa still touched her brother’s arm. She took her hand away and busied herself with rearranging the furs spread across the wide bed.

“The wolves are well fed and appear content for the night,” he announced stiffly.

“Good, I’m glad,” Robb said, smiling. “Grey Wind and Ghost seem to have never parted, the way they act together.”

“Indeed,” said Jon and Sansa felt a pang. Her own wolf was dead and buried, with so many others. There was a terrible emptiness in her heart.

“I think I will be sleeping here tonight,” Robb announced. “Sansa does not feel entirely safe, sleeping on her own.”

Sansa smiled but wondered at his words. They were true, but she hadn’t spoken them aloud. Perhaps he had simply divined them from her expression.

“Alright,” Jon replied, a strange look on his face.

Sansa found that he didn’t often look at her, even when speaking right to her. It must have been very lonely on that wall, she mused. She pondered if he had ever had a woman. Sansa blushed, wondering where in seven hells that thought had come from. He was her true brother now and must think of him that way. And that meant treating him exactly like she would treat Robb.

“Perhaps you would like to sleep here as well?” she asked quickly as he was turning to leave. It had been a spur of the moment question, but as she spoke it, she actually hoped he would stay. It would be even nicer to have two brothers sleeping by her side, reminders that she was not alone.

Jon looked shocked. He turned to look at the pair of them and opened his mouth to speak. Sansa knew at once he was going to decline, from politeness or fear perhaps.

“Please, I would like it very much,” she said, letting a slight whine enter her voice. “Like Robb said, I still do not feel safe. I wake in the night and think I am still in King’s Landing, alone.” She tried to make herself sound as small and soft as she could, still feeling like she was tricking them, but not caring.

Jon’s grey eyes were looking at Robb and slowly traveled over the room to Sansa’s face. He flushed and looked away quickly.

“I do not know, m’lady, it may not be wise…”

“I’m not your lady, Jon, you are my brother and I am your sister. Please.”

“It would be terribly cold in your own chambers, after all,” Robb put in.

Jon smirked. “I’m used to cold,” he replied. “But if it would please you…”

“It would,” Sansa exclaimed, smiling broadly. “Now go and ready yourselves for sleep, I’ll make sure the bed is warm for us.”

Her two brothers, the last family she had left, nodded their consent and left. When she was alone, Sansa undressed herself and pulled on a woolen shift. She poured herself a cup of hot wine and crawled into the center of the wide bed, letting the heated liquor fill her with her with warmth. When Jon and Robb returned, she bid them pour themselves cups as well. Robb seemed unconcerned with the new arrangements and easily slipped into bed beside her. Jon was nervous and more hesitant. Sansa supposed he still did not truly feel like a real Stark, not yet.

Sansa pulled back the furs on the other side, inviting him in.

“Come, come,” she insisted, handing her empty cup to Robb for him to place on the table beside the bed. “We are all weary and in need of rest. The bed is lovely and warm.”

Jon drank his wine slowly, but before long it was empty and he was forced to slip between the furs beside his sister and brother. He lay very stiff and did not look at either of them. Sansa had to laugh. It had been so long since she last laughed, it felt wonderful.

“What is it?” Jon asked in alarm.

“Nothing, nothing,” Sansa said, still giggling. “We aren’t going to eat you, I promise.” She reached out and took his hand, which still lay atop the furs. It was warm and coarse, and felt so good she threaded her fingers through his. Jon was flushed but he was looking at her now, right in her eyes and Sansa was struck at how like their father he looked.

“Go to sleep, the pair of you,” Robb mumbled sleepily.

Sansa gave his hand a squeeze and let go, turning on her side and pulling the furs tight around her. Jon was still as stiff as ever, but eventually she felt him relax and his breathing deepen. Before long, the warmth and security was enough to plunge Sansa into a deep and blissful sleep.

Sansa was not sure how much time had passed when she awoke again, but the fire had burned low and there was an abiding warmth in the space between the furs and the three bodies beneath them. Sansa felt contentment at once, but as she lay there, listening to the deep, even breathing of her brothers on either side, Sansa could not help but think of all the people that once occupied this castle and even this very room. Why was it, that she was safe and warm, while Arya was lost, Bran, Rickon, mother, father and even Lady were all dead and cold, gone forever? Sansa shrunk in the warm cocoon of furs, the grief as fresh and painful as when she had first felt it.

Robb shifted in his sleep, throwing his arm across the bed, toward where Sansa lay. His hand landed near her face. Sansa could not help but reach out and grasp it. Robb was roused by the touch and turned to face her.

“What is it?” he whispered, his face close to hers.

“A nightmare,” she invented. Her true feelings felt too complex to fully explain.

“Ah. Come here.” He opened his arms and drew her close, into his warm and comforting embrace. Sansa went easily, laying her head on his chest.

Jon moaned sleepily beside them. Sansa wondered what he was dreaming about. Some lady, perhaps? It was strange to even think about, but also intriguing. Sansa recalled the Hound’s drunken visit while King’s Landing burned, and the kiss he had given her. What would her brothers think of such a thing? It filled her with a strange warmth that had nothing to do with the heat beneath the furs.

Robb had started snoring again, his chest rising and falling evenly. Sansa shifted a little, stretching her body out and feeling for the end of the bed with her toes. Sansa wondered if she would ever get another kiss. She was still married to Tyrion Lannister, and he could not be confirmed dead. Robb could not broker a marriage contract for her until then. Sansa snuggled into the warmth of Robb’s body and imagined kissing him. It should feel wrong, he was her brother, but the Hound’s kiss should have felt wrong too, and it hadn’t. She could still recall the scrape of his stubble against her mouth. It had burned, but pleasantly, and she felt a shivery heat growing in her abdomen.

Robb’s mouth was slightly open as he slept. It was lovely and his breath smelled slightly of wine. His closely cropped beard was very red, like her own hair. Sansa lifted her head so she could look at his face properly. He looked so young and gentle in his sleep. Sansa reached up to touch his face, to feel the rough burn of his beard, the smooth, freckled skin of his cheek. She loved him so much it hurt. She could feel it in the same place she mourned for her other siblings, for her parents and for every other person she had lost. If this was condemned by the gods for being wicked, Sansa did not think she cared much for what the gods had to say.

Sansa pressed her mouth against his, slow and gentle as not to wake him too soon. He would surely pull away once he realized what she was doing, and Sansa didn’t want to stop. It felt too nice, his dry lips sliding against hers so sweetly. But a sound from her other side made her stop abruptly. Robb was still asleep, evidently, but Sansa broke their kiss and turned over to see Jon, wide awake, staring in disbelief.

Sansa did not know what to say. Jon looked puzzled, a little frightened and embarrassed, but unable to speak, as she was. Sansa quickly cleared her head and smiled best she could.

“Did I wake you? I’m sorry.”

Jon swallowed, looking away, his face looking flushed in the semi-light.

“I did not… I- I’m sorry…” he stuttered, moving to get up. Sansa grabbed his wrist.

“Don’t go. Or be sorry. You must be lonely, aren’t you? I’m lonely too.” Her thumb, wrapped around his wrist stroked him gently there, right above his pulse, which was racing wildly. He seemed paralyzed and didn’t resist when she drew him closer, angling her mouth for a kiss.

This kiss, her third, was different but no sweeter. Jon was hesitant and jumpy and he tried to pull away once or twice, his lips quivering, but Sansa pushed closer, desperate for his touch. He was her brother too and she must treat him as such.

Sansa was pleased and surprised that it was Jon’s tongue that first touched her lips, and when she met him at once with her own, he actually groaned. Sansa could feel his body move, so close to hers under the blankets and she wanted to feel it pressed against her.

Before she could try, Jon pulled back suddenly, looking over her shoulder with wide eyed fear. Sansa turned to see Robb staring at them, but he didn’t look shocked or afraid or even embarrassed. Sansa reached up to touch his face again. Perhaps he had not been sleeping after all, she thought, as he drew her in for another kiss. This time she used her tongue at once, and he seemed to like that. Leaning over her, he pressed his lean, hard body against her, the kiss growing more passionate. Sansa moaned, the heat in her body growing to feverish degree and she writhed against him. She pushed back, wanting to feel every part of him.

Lying on her side now, Sansa boldly reached for his body, the hard muscle under his arm, the powerful flex of his chest as he tensed. And there were hands on her body too, but not Robb’s, who had both tangled in her hair. Jon’s touch was tentative and light, which felt all the more intense as he skimmed her ribcage, the swell of her hip, the side of her breast. She felt him press open mouth kisses to the back of her neck and reveled in the feeling. Impatiently, Sansa grabbed his hand and placed it firmly over her breast, the nipple stiffening under his palm. She felt his breathing quicken against her skin and the firm press of his manhood against the small of her back.

It excited her so much, that Sansa abandoned her exploration of Robb’s chest and dipped her hand lower. She felt the muscles of his stomach twitch as her fingers trailed over his navel, feeling the coarse hair that lead to his groin. He broke their kiss with a groan and untangled his hand to grasp her wrist.

“Sansa…” he breathed, his chest heaving.

“It’s good,” she whispered, feeling Jon kiss her neck, her jaw, her ear. “It’s good. It feels good.”

When her hand closed around his cock, Robb actually shuddered. It was stiff and hot, and Sansa felt the soft skin move with her hand as she stroked it. Robb placed his own hand over hers to show her how to move it, in a gentle, even rhythm. Sansa was finding it hard to concentrate because Jon was pinching her nipple, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger, and then palming her whole breast as he sucked at the sensitive skin of her neck. He was rubbing his own cock against her backside, desperate for friction. His hand left her breast and grabbed for the bottom edge of her shift, dragging it up so that he could touch her bare skin.

Sansa pressed her face into Robb’s chest, feeling the quick beat of his heart against her mouth. He was moaning steadily now and increasing the pace of her hand around his cock. Jon was stroking her belly, building the tingling, molten heat between her legs. He was so bold it surprised her when he dipped his fingers between her thighs. Sansa gasped and spread her legs to accommodate him as he stroked and pressed at the damp, heated flesh. _He had certainly had a woman before,_ Sansa thought as he brought her toward ecstasy.

Sansa arched and writhed under his touch and she continued to stroke Robb’s cock, squeezing and quickening the pace. It was not long before he gasped, his whole body stiffening, his mouth agape and his eyes shut tight and she felt his cock spasm and the warm wetness of his seed coated her hand. All the while, Jon circled the hard nub of her pleasure, his fingers pressing and stroking, sliding over her whole cunt, and soon she felt a great feeling seize her entire body, all the way to her toes. It left Sansa limp and weak, feeling so glorious that she could barely move.

When she had recovered, Sansa turned to see Jon, gripping his cock and looking at her like he’d never seen anything like her. Sansa couldn’t leave him to get off by himself, so she wrapped her hand around him and stroked like Robb had guided her. All the while, she kissed his neck, rubbed her lips across his dark stubble, bit at the lobe of his ear which made him gasp and shudder.

Robb was kissing her neck gently, brushing her hair away with a soft hand. When Jon, too, had stiffened and pressed his face into her shoulder as he gasped, Sansa wiped her hand on her woolen shift, which was bunched up around her armpits.

Jon looked so much more peaceful now, in the blissful, post-climax haze. Sansa pulled the furs tight around them again, this time with all their arms intertwined, their bodies curled around each other. She was amazed how content she was, how warm and secure she felt, nestled between their two warm bodies.

The night may be cold and the winter fierce, but Sansa had her brothers, and that was enough for the time being.


End file.
